[X] Horses and Stablehands {Helena Everlight} [Inactive]

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[Weylin Owen]

Weylin was unusually devoted to his horses. It may seem a very strange thing to say, for the young man often left them on careless excursions of his own delight, but it is the truth. While his personality seemed to contradict this in many ways, Weylin could be very loyal. It was proven on his horses, and even more so was it proven by their response to him.

Today Weylin had stayed in his stables, content with taking care of these magnificent creatures. The only stablehand on duty was himself, and so he would have felt bad -- though he hardly would have admitted it -- to leave the poor creatures alone. Besides, should anyone from the castle come in search of their horses, it would have been a dreadful problem for his job. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time he's threatened that.

So far today, things had remained relatively quiet. In fact, Weylin was thinking that very soon he would be bored out of his mind, and was searching for a horse who was in particular need of a good ride. After all, if he got out of the stables on account of the horses, who could blame him? It's to be sure, that some blaming could be found if at all needed, but excuses could be found just as quickly, and Weylin was willing to take that chance. If his brother had been there, perhaps he could have been convinced not to jeopardize his wages.

Unfortunately, his brother was not there, but at his own job. This left Weylin to make his own decisions -- though he'd been doing that from the time he could decide anything -- without any sort of contradiction in any form whatsoever. He was about to begin building on his plan, for he'd found a horse who could really have used a ride, when there was suddenly a young lady at the stable door. Weylin couldn't recall seeing her ever before, but she was indeed beautiful, and he had no trouble at all in refraining from his little excursion for a while. "Can I help you with something, m'lady?" Weylin said, a smile, as always, twitching at the sides of his mouth.

[Helena Everlight]

{{OOC: Well, whaddya know! It looks like I’ve written an entire story, doesn’t it? Haha…I tend to do that with introductory posts. I know people tend to get real busy, so if you don’t have the time to read all of this in one sitting, I completely understand! Anyways, on with the show!}}

It started out as a normal day; up early, out to the market, breakfast, and a ride through an unfamiliar area on the outskirts of town for something to do. That had been Helena Everlight’s morning schedule for the past few days, while she stayed with some friends of the family in Telmar, just one of many stops she planned to make on her “journey to wherever-the-wind-takes-me” adventure, as she proudly called it. She wasn’t any good at making up names for important things.

Indeed, it was just a day like any other…until that blasted stray branch came along and scratched her horse’s leg. The incident was Helena’s fault, (although she was not likely to admit it.) as she had unwisely steered her horse off the path and into the trees, after catching a glimpse of an interesting animal in a meadow left of the path. The floor of the forest in that particular area had been coated in dense, low underbrush, and the horse’s hooves were well hidden, submerged beneath the green ocean.
   Whatever animal had been in the meadow, it had darted into the forest as soon as it heard the sharp snap of the hidden branch splintering after having been bent back by the horse’s leg. The horse had jerked his head up, startled, but Helena had quickly calmed him, placing a soothing hand on his neck. Hopping down, she had taken the reins and walked her companion back onto the path.
   Ignoring the mud beneath her, Helena had knelt down on the ground to inspect her horse’s legs for any damage. Sure enough, the fallen branch had left a scrape on the horse’s left foreleg. It wasn’t deep, but it had glistened with crimson ever so slightly. Taking her sleeve, she’d torn a piece off and wrapped it around the wound as a mock bandage, just to protect the cut until she could get to the nearest stable.

Until she saw her reflection in a pond along the path as she led her horse back into town, Helena hadn’t cared what the mud and torn sleeve had done to her appearance. She hadn’t thought it would be that bad, since the mud hadn’t been too deep, and she hadn’t torn too much length off of her sleeve. But it had turned out to be far worse than she had expected. Her boots and the knees of her pants were caked in dark mud, and her hands were filthy. Her hair was tangled from the wind, and there was a large muddy palm print on her forehead above her right eyebrow. Helena had gotten that when she smacked her forehead after seeing the horse’s cut, realizing how careless she had been. She looked as if she had been out in the wilderness for weeks, when in fact she’d only been out for a few hours.
   With a sigh, Helena had secured her horse to a nearby tree and had knelt by the pond. She had swished her hands in the cool water, rinsing the mud off of them before lifting some water to her face, ridding her forehead of the unsightly mud. Helena hadn’t managed to get all the mud off her forehead before she’d noticed her horse stirring with discomfort from his cut. With a frustrated sigh, she had wished she’d had the time to further tidy herself, but she had to make haste, and get her companion the attention he needed.

Helena had taken the closest road into town, which, thankfully, had been a back road that led directly past the castle stables. She had been able to avoid the public eye as she’d neared a smaller branch of road that led up a hill to the left, on top of which stood the castle stables. Suddenly, as she had begun to make her way up the hill, Helena had flushed red of embarrassment as she imagined the looks she would receive at the stables.
She’d figured that, since the stable hands were most likely accustomed to royal or high-class patrons, her rather unkempt appearance would certainly merit a wide variety of stares.    
   But, as she’d stepped inside the gate, her equine companion in tow, bracing for the gawking, she had been surprised at the apparent emptiness of the establishment. This however, had not been a good thing in Helena’s opinion, for now she thought she’d have to call out loud for someone to hear her, which would attract more attention that she desired. But, as she had patted her horse gently on the nose, she decided that, to save herself any humiliation, she would simply peek inside each building until she found someone.

It was not long before Helena had heard someone shuffling about in the main stable. The doors were wide open, so she’d dipped her head in the doorway ever so quickly, and then had darted back to her position against the outside wall. Sure enough, there was someone inside. Though Helena couldn’t have been too sure of the details in the blur of her glimpse, she had been quite confident that it was a young man inside.
   Closing her eyes, and tilting her head up, she’d swallowed, taken a deep breath, and had prayed that she’d be able to control her blushing, should he give her a weird look, as she guessed he would. Helena might’ve been standing there forever if not for her equine companion, who had nudged her with his nose, snapping her out of her daze. Helena tightened her grasp on the reins, braced herself for the gawking, and stepped out into the doorway, horse in tow.

~~~

Now Helena stood in the doorway, eyes wide. It wasn’t from embarrassment, however, for the young man inside was indeed looking at her, but he wasn’t gaping stupidly at her as if she had risen from the dead...no, not at all. Instead, to Helena’s complete shock, there was a charming, playful smirk upon his face as he spotted her in the doorway.
   The first thing she noticed about him was that his face seemed as if it was out of place. Here, on the body of a stable hand (or so he appeared to be) was the head of a prince. Either that, or some other form of nobility that was usually characterized by very good looks. But as she looked at him once more, Helena realized that his head suited his body just fine; for she imagined his head on a body clothed in expensive robes and jewels, and it was a very awkward image.

Now she had a new reason to control her blushing, and it certainly was a strange feeling, because Helena never really payed much attention to boys back home. They all seemed the same to her, and none really ever stood out as anything special. But this young man was different. Not only because of his looks, Helena noted, though they were certainly a factor; but most noticeable to her was his overwhelmingly friendly and welcoming presence.

Try as she may to suppress the warmth in her cheeks, her body betrayed her. Getting slightly frustrated now that she had become so easily flustered, she turned her eyes away, looking towards the rafters in the ceiling, her lips pursing slightly in irritation at herself. At that very moment, the young man spoke up.

   "Can I help you with something, m'lady?"

Helena’s eyes flickered to the young man, but quickly darted back to the rafters after she saw that the dazzling grin hadn’t faltered. Guessing at this point that words would fail her; that she would either open her mouth and nothing would come out, or she would open it and blurt something not so nice out, although she would be cursing at herself, not the young man. Still, that wouldn’t come off as very friendly, so Helena resolved to not use words, but to show the young stable hand what he could help her with.    
   Shifting her eyes down to her horse’s leg, being careful to avoid a glimpse of the young man’s smiling face, Helena crouched down and gently unwound her makeshift bandage from the horse’s foreleg, revealing the cut, still glistening with a hint of crimson. Helena didn’t want to come off as impolite to the young man, with her annoyed expression, so she took a chance, and spoke. Luckily, her words didn’t fail her as she had guessed, but they came out in a rougher tone than was intended.
   
   “It happened in the forest back there.” Helena muttered, casually gesturing towards the forest with her left hand. She wasn’t ready to lose the battle against her blushing, and was determined that she would regain her composure, even with the charming stable hand in her presence…

[weylin]

{ooc: so, so sorry for the late reply! i've been busy! and no worries at all on the length... i love massive posts like that! i'm sorry that i've been giving you these lameo replies to work with. x.x}

The young maiden before Weylin was beginning to amuse him. It was nothing of a condemning sort, only something to cause his smile to grow wider and his eyes to sparkle with more glee than before. Little had he realized, open first seeing the young lady's innocent, beautiful eyes and brown tousled curls pop through the door of the stables, what her real state of appearance was. It was when she fully walked in that Weylin's smile grew, for here before him was a picture of sheer delight.

Mud coated her boots and her clothing hadn't managed to escape the thorough splashing. Even her face was a little streaked with mud, and, to make things all the more delightful for Weylin, her cheeks had turned crimson in his presence. She seemed to be rather shy, or so he presumed, and indeed she must have been quite interesting, just by looking at all that mud. Whatever could have caused it, Weylin didn't know, but he figured it had something to do with her horse's injury.

As she pulled off the bandage, Weylin knelt down beside her, both to examine the wound and to engage in conversation -- if she would even respond, which he planned to do his best to make happen. In the process, he couldn't help but hope her blushing would only get stronger."Ah yes, the woods," he said, peering with a keen eye at the horse's leg. "It can be brutal, indeed! No worries though, I'm fairly sure that your horse will have a pretty quick recovery." Weylin patted the leg, and reached back for the makeshift bandage that the young girl had taken off. After securing it back around the horse's gash, he pulled himself up, and reached down to offer the girl his hand. "We'll just take her over there, where I can clean her up," he said, the same genuine grin still steadfastly refusing to leave his face.

[Helena Everlight]

{{No worries! I totally understand what it’s like to be busy! No rush xD}}

Allowing herself a few very quick glances at the young man’s face, Helena could see his amusement brewing. But whether the growing grin on the young man’s face was a reaction to her unruly appearance, the blush colouring her cheeks, or perhaps both, Helena couldn’t know for sure. He approached her, moving to kneel down beside her to get a closer look at her horse’s injured leg. Though she was beginning to get used to the young stable hand’s presence, Helena’s recovery from the pink flush on her face was slow. With the same frustration towards her body as she’d been feeling before, Helena continued to focus on restoring her features to their original hue.

The young man spoke again, assuring Helena that the horse’s recovery would be swift, and then rewrapped the wound temporarily. Allowing her eyes to once again flicker to the young man’s face, Helena’s gaze was instead met with his hand, open, and offered towards her. In that moment, she realized his intentions. The seemingly permanent grin, the unnaturally welcoming presence; all the pieces fit together. This young stable hand was finding her very amusing, and was now actually trying to make her blush even more than she was already. Was he so used to young women melting under his presence that he figured Helena would be just the same? Well, she knew that she was hardly similar, and was now determined to prove it.
   With her eyes lingering on the outstretched hand before her, an idea suddenly came to Helena. She was not about to let him have his way so easily.

With a smirk playing upon her lips, and her now keenly sparkling eyes narrowing with clever intention, Helena placed the horse’s reins in the young man’s open hand as she rose to her feet. In a fleeting moment, she came out victorious from the battle with her blushing as it was overcome with a feeling of accomplishment. Finally, the warmth beneath her skin was fading, and her complexion was beginning to return to normal as she stood with her arms folded across her chest, looking smugly at the reins in the young man’s hand.
   
Turning her gaze to the stable hand's face, Helena watched his features, waiting for a reaction with the same eagerness in her eyes as would be present in her brothers’ as they waited to see if she would fall for one of their practical jokes. She, however, would never let herself fall victim to their mischief, and this situation was no different. Despite her constant victories against their antics, however, Helena’s brothers would never give up, or even become discouraged. They would simply analyze their failures, and attempt to figure out what gave them away to their sister. The boys would find the errors and take them into account as they plotted and planned for their next tricks. But for every new strategy her brothers came up with, Helena also invented one.

If this stable hand turned out to be anything like her brothers, then this would be a fierce battle of stubbornness and determination; a struggle to see whose resistance would hold steady the longest. The real question was this: would the stable hand be victorious in his attempt to fluster Helena; or would she be able to resist his charm long enough to stump him? Though she couldn’t say for certain, Helena was determined to keep her blushing at bay, through whatever charms the young man might throw her way.

Still standing with her arms folded, and the same smirk upon her face, Helena gestured forward towards the empty stall that the young man had earlier suggested they take her horse to.
“Lead the way.” She said to the young man before her.

[weylin]

Weylin waited, hand outstretched, for the young girl before him to take it. His eyes never once left her face as she stared at his hand, seemingly contemplating what to do. It happened to be a rather amusing few seconds, for Weylin watched the sudden dawning, and then the fierce determination flicker into her eyes. Just as quickly, the horse's reigns suddenly filled his own hand, and he watched the mud-covered girl scramble to her feet on her own.

Well, apparently this would be harder than he'd expected.

No matter, though! All the more for diversion on a boring day such as this. After all, what could be more interesting for a young man, than to be given a beautiful young maiden, more stubborn than even her beauty, who thought him a complete scoundrel? The joys of trying his best to change her mind, or even make her enjoy his company were simply to great to pass up. Of course, he would likely prove that he really was a scoundrel in the process, but all the better! Weylin could never pass up such a bargain as this!

However, it should be mentioned what was visible to all others during this thought procession, not only what was happening inside Weylin's head. His own features he likely would have laughed at, had he been watching from a distance. At first, there was amusement, while the girl contemplated what to do. However, it was soon replaced by surprise as the hand was so suddenly filled with horse's reigns, rather than the gentle hand of it's owner. The surprise lingered a bit, but was quickly taken over by a shimmering grin once more, as he found her stubbornness all the more interesting, and foresaw many interesting moments ahead.

Weylin enjoyed the girl's happy smirk as she triumphantly bid him to "lead the way." No doubt she felt that she was quite victorious in this unofficial little battle, but Weylin was only more delighted, for he was simply at the point of being entertained. Contrary to Helena's self-produced opinion, Weylin did not manage to secure every girl he wished for. He did, after all, work in the palace stables. For some of the poorer country girls he may have had an easier chance, but with the rich, fancy young ladies of the palace... Well, that was a different story. And that was what he really enjoyed, for many of them would eventually find him better than they first thought, to which Weylin felt too much pride, of course.

"Certainly, miss!" Weylin responded with a slight bow. "I am at your disposal." So saying he led the horse towards the stable, paying her little attention as he went, until he had finally positioned the horse and gotten all the correct ointments ready and in order. "Might I have the privilege of knowing your name, miss?" He asked, looking up from his work for a moment, flashing her another of his trademark smiles.

[Helena Everlight]

{{OOC: Sorry this took so long! It’s been my turn to be busy lately. My family and I are moving soon, so it’s pretty hectic around here!}}

Although Helena had seen surprise grace the young stable hand's features for only a brief moment, it was enough to satisfy her. At least this proved that she had caught him off guard, no matter how briefly. Now, she could bask in her victory, and perhaps show it off a little, as well. As Helena proudly stood, arms folded over her chest, a smirk playing on her lips, and her features showing the colour that they were supposed to, save for the mud, she appeared to be no less than what she really was at that moment; a smug teenager enjoying apparent victory.

But too soon had Helena let her triumphant feeling show, for once again the young man spoke, and he did not appear in the least to be feeling nor even contemplating defeat. Instead his amusement appeared to have heightened as he bowed slightly to Helena, another one of those annoyingly charming smiles on his face as he did so. He appeared almost on the brink of laughter now, as he led Helena's horse to one of the stalls. She followed, contemplating him as they went. The way he seemed to know what she was planning irked her. Perhaps, though it pained her to admit, even to herself, she had underestimated him. Either that, or it showed far too clearly on her face.

As Helena felt a stab of frustration wash over her, she promptly turned on her heels, clearly not giving up yet. She turned her back towards him, seemingly attempting to keep up her defiant stance, but actually trying to mask any changes that might have occurred in her expression that would give away her sudden frustration. Presently, she flipped a section of her mud-caked hair back behind her shoulder to further enhance the image.

He had asked for her name, and after a moment’s contemplation, Helena decided that she could at least allow him that much. Suddenly, however, she noticed something in his question that could warrant some retaliation. As the smirk crept back onto her face, and her sapphire eyes sparkled keenly, Helena turned to face the young man once again, her features now slightly toying with some amusement of her own. She simply looked at him with playful eyes for a moment, and then spoke.

“It has always been my knowledge that should a man wish to know the name of a lady, he should first introduce himself.” Helena walked past the young man, her eyes closed with stubbornness. She stopped just behind him, her back now toward his. “However…I can see that your error was an honest one. I’m sure that, ordinarily, you are a fine, respectable young gentleman.” She emphasized the descriptive words, giving them a doubtful tone.

Smiling to herself, again in ‘too-soon-to-be-certain’ triumph, Helena walked back past the young man again, this time turning to face him as she stopped. “My name is Helena Everlight. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Helena paused, smirking. “You are…?”

[Lord Drinian]

OOC: I'm wondering if I could enter here? I was thinking that Drin might stop by the stables before he heads out for Aslan's How. My notion of it is that he came to the front rather later, once he had been threatened in a missive by Miraz to do so. (He'd been avoiding the war otherwise.) Drinian's about as uncomfortable about the intrusion as I am. I noticed favourable reference to long entry posts so, uh . . . well . . .

"Hullo!?" Drinian called as he entered the courtyard, not being received by men in livery as he was accustomed. Covered in four days' worth of mud and travel, Drinian considered that perhaps he had not been recognised. He had certainly not been expected. Most lords were with Miraz at the front or, if too old or too young, with their lands. Though of a fighting age, Drinian had also gone home to his duchy until the letter from the "king" (a term Drinian used sparingly when referring to Miraz, and when in the confidence of friends, bitterly) had arrived. It had drawn a swift response from the young Duke. He left his duchy immediately, but did not go directly. There were two things yet to be done in Telmar before he ventured to the front.

Having waited several moments and only hearing the echos of voices but never seeing their creators, Drinian sighed. He wanted off this horse as quickly as possible. While a notorious explorer and traveller, Drinian was not fond of riding, rather viewing it as a necessary vehicle to get from place to place. He steered his horse, a patient arabian mare by the name of Placida, to the stables.

"Weylin!" he called in to the stablehand, who he saw so little, he might not have even remembered Drinian, had it not been for last year's embarrasing tumble. The event had made him infamous with the servants in the palace. Drinian had been good-natured about the humiliation and would be the first to admit that he had no great finesse with horsemanship. He rode respectably well and swiftly, but he did not have, he had learned from that experience, the herewithall for a hunting expedition. He wondered how it would be on the front. Lords never fought on foot in Telmar. They led the charge . . .

Drinian shook his head and repeated the call as he dismounted stiffly, unknowingly answering the lady's question from within. "Weylin, I apologise, but I have need of--" He paused as he entered the stables to see the stablelad with an unknown young woman.

In fact, he stopped short, leaving the sentence unfinished, feeling rather as though he had walked in upon something. It was clear that the something consisted heavily of flirtation, something that Drinian, for all his charm, had never much practised himself. Weylin, on the other hand, had been as notorious for his flirtations and mischief as Drinian was for his explorations and humour.

He gave an easy smile and led his horse in. "Ah, this will do," he finished quietly as he led Placida into a stall, helping himself as he removed Placida's saddle, then bridle, moving quickly as possible to allow the young couple their peace. As he moved in silence, he became aware of the four day's worth of stubble on his face which matched the dirt, for Drinian had not gotten a chance to shave that morning. He had been too distracted at the spring. Drinian chuckled quietly to himself, recollecting the incident.

As Drinian quickly brushed Placida -- a bit too quickly, for she shifted uncomfortably under his hand -- Drinian wished that he had had perhaps a bit more wear from the road upon him for for all Drinian was a modest dresser for his station, the clothes and fabric suited his person so well nothing could disguise the skill in making them. Drinian could not help but appear a nobleman, and he did not wish Weylin to appear inattentive to the needs of one of the palace dignitaries.

Deciding that, in fact, silence made the situation more awkward, for how could the two speak with a newcomer listening in, he observed pleasantly, "I've just arrived from Bernal. The wilderness is so bewitching this time of year. It is a pity that there are so few left in these parts to enjoy it." He turned to smile at the couple, now noting the state of the young lady. Judging from the way she stood, shoulders relaxed, both feet level upon the ground, Drinian took a mere breath to decide that she was unhurt and so, allowed an amiable and pleasant smile curl the corners of his lips. "Though I see that some have." Lowering his hand from Placida's back to rest at his side, Drinian respectfully bowed his head. "Drinian, miss. At your service." His accompanying glance to Weylin was one of apology for having intruded.

For himself, Drinian demonstrated very little interest in courting and flirtation. Being the companion of the kingdom's heir (well . . . would-have-been heir) gave him little sporting chance, and Drinian guarded his romantic affections closely, though he extended friendship to nearly everyone he encountered. He knew it was not so with everyone and recognised, having seen it many times among the court, when flirtation was taking place. It was an awkward situation, his, and he wished to be out of it as quickly as possible.

His request of Weylin would be made, and then he would be gone.

[weylin]

{ohh, I love the entry! very nice. and it makes everything more interesting! hehe.}

Weylin was preparing to search the deepest parts of his mind for a response that would not leave him in any sort of humiliation (yes, he felt a bit pathetic about it all; surely his dear mud-caked counterpart would have been thrilled to know his thoughts), when another mud-caked fellow skillfully managed to save him of the situation. What was with the mud today? Either people were enjoying it with extra zeal, or vice versa. But never mind that, Weylin's mind was wandering again, and he needed to get it back on track.

"Well there you have it, Miss Everlight. My name is Weylin, just as the gentleman said," He leaned against the gate of the stable, his grin inching its way back onto his face as he found himself feeling completely comfortable with the situation once more. Sometimes the seemingly worst of interruptions are the most welcome.

Weylin frowned a bit as the gentleman -- at least he supposed he was a gentleman, he didn't recognize him -- began tending to his own horse. Apparently he wasn't anyone of importance. Weylin shrugged a bit, not minding that he didn't have to do his job. "Well, I suppose this beauty can assume all of my attention then," he said with a smile at Helena, that paused on her for a moment before turning to her horse. The beauty comment was directed at the horse, of course. Or was it? Weylin just smiled to himself. He could be so terribly nerve racking at times. And today he seemed to have a good audience... what a thrill!

Just as Weylin began working with the horse once more, the gentleman returned. His name was stated, and the stablehand froze for a moment. "My lord, I am terribly sorry," he said, jumping up quickly. "My own mind tricked me into thinking that you wanted to tend your own horse, which was a silly proposition, being as I never asked you--" He cut himself off, realizing he was talking a bit too much. But his job was in jeopardy, what could a young man do?

Stealing another glance at Helena, sure she was gloating at his situation. "Please, allow me to tend to your horse, Lord Drinian. What does she need?" He stepped out of the stable, looking back at the mud-caked young lady. "I'll return in a moment and take care of your horse, miss."

The calling this young man, who appeared to be even younger than Weylin himself, "lord" and "gentleman" made Weylin cringe inside, but he had to do it, much to the chagrin of his pride. He'd let his pride go for this tiny moment, just enough to salvage his job. Should Drinian do anything wrong though, Weylin couldn't say that it would last.

[Lord Drinian]

As Weylin suavely (with an air of much practise, Drinian noted) went about tending to both the lady and horse (and flirting with either or both), Drinian smiled subtly and began rummaging through his saddlebags, then attempting to make himself appear as dignified as possible. It had been what he had wanted -- Weylin was not the least bit intimidated and had felt him to be his equal, if not subordinate -- but when Drin considered the company the might next be keeping in the palace, the thought unsettled him.

He slipped on a sueded velvet doublet with some distaste, muttering quietly something about the breeze, and pulled out a leathern volume with peeling gold letters upon the spine. He smiled at it fondly.

He was not sure if it was the change in attire or the name which brought the change in Weylin, but Drinian turned about quickly at the young man's panic:

"My lord, I am terribly sorry," he had said, jumping up quickly. "My own mind tricked me into thinking that you wanted to tend your own horse, which was a silly proposition, being as I never asked you--" As the stablelad cut himself off, Drinian's smile grew soft and reassuring. But Weylin still seemed to be scrambling.

"Please, allow me to tend to your horse, Lord Drinian. What does she need?" He stepped out of the stable, looking back at the mud-caked young lady. "I'll return in a moment and take care of your horse, miss."

Loud enough to be heard by both the lady and lad, Drinian responded, "Your intuition, Weylin, is quite keen. I did in fact want to tend to my own horse. Keeps me in practise. Placida and I travel together often, and she's used to my touch--you know how it is. However, I'll be needing to keep her here . . . indefinitely, and hope that you might offer Placida the necessary care when I am gone. I have two more things to ask of you; one is, I am afraid, very inconvenient; the other, not so very. First," and here, Drinian uncharacteristically faltered as though standing at the edge of a very great precipice, about to advance. The words came out precise and without any of the warmth of his previous words. "I realise that with the war, most lords will have taken the chargers and other suitable warhorses of the palace with them, but perhaps if there were some lingering destriers," he said timidly, for destriers were called so for their large size, but more for their aggressive natures. Drinian could not imagine anything more different than the small, good natured mare, Placida, he had become accustomed to. He motioned to her. "She simply will not do for a charge in battle." He looked positively grey, and many who might have seen him in this moment, a lord of the land, indecisive about his country's call to arms, might call it cowardice. He was sure that most of the nobles already did, and the opinion might have spread downstairs as well, but Drinian could not help his complete apprehension in the matter. He did not feel right about the war, this fighting against Caspian, who most knew to be the rightful heir, even if they chose to see differently. What was more, drawing from the latent malice in Miraz's letter, Drinian did not have much hope that he would be spared from the thickest of the fighting. Miraz had not taken kindly to his decision to stay behind, but he was very fond of the thought of one more sword at his disposal and at least the show of allegiance. Drinian considered giving Weylin time to respond, but Drinian had started this difficult business of requesting (one he was not accustomed to in the first place) and anxious to allow Weylin to return and so carried on.

"Another thing," Drinian said returning to his smiling, easy manner, "I am dividing up some of the things on my estate -- should any fighting be drawn there; it is rather close to the fighting -- and wondered if your brother, perhaps, might watch over some volumes of philosophy." He lifted his hand which held the book. "There are seven in all. They were my father's. I couldn't sell them and likely they would not be objects of plunder, but I am rather fond of them. I often observed Gavin reading during his leisure time and thought that his great care of books coupled with my need for a caretaker and aligned with the fact that books of learning are rather more difficult to come by, of late . . . " this last reason was delivered with some grimness, an indirect reference to Doctor Cornelius's unjust imprisonment and the censure of his book and others as a result, "I thought these may be of some interest to him. If he would be willing. I should like him to read them," he added with a mischevious smile, knowing this would place Gavin under conflicting orders from the king and from a duke (only beneath a prince in status), and also suspecting whose orders Gavin would likely choose to follow. "He can tell anyone who asked that I requested it of him." Drinian was grinning now, quite proud of the plan, which allowed at least one man a diversion in such a grim time. It also helped that this included a small subversion of Miraz's word.

He was silent a moment before adding, "I keep you from your duty with too many requests. I apologise most sincerely," he said, nodding back to the stable, where Helena awaited. "If you could show me some horses that you might have on hand, I can fetch the remaining volumes." He looked Weylin in the eye, adding, "I am very grateful to you."

[Helena Everlight]

Helena smirked; unbearably excited to see how the stable-hand would get out of this. She had him!
Unfortunately, her pending victory was quickly snuffed, for an unfamiliar voice called from just outside the stable, answering her question with ironically perfect timing.

“Weylin!” the voice called, the tone and pitch identifying it as male. Any hope Helena may have had that the voice was addressing someone else was crushed as its owner rode into sight, continuing to speak as he dismounted just outside the stable doors.

Helena felt a stab of frustration as she realized that this new stranger had unknowingly ruined her clever little set-up. She had been so sure that with catching that small flaw in the stable-hand’s manners, she had finally broken through his cockiness and would be treated to a show of utter embarrassment. Helena refused to meet the gaze of who she now knew as “Weylin”, for she was quite certain that as soon as he realized that the situation had suddenly turned around in his favour, he would be gloating smugly. Regrettably, the stable-hand must have felt that it was his personal obligation to assure Helena of her defeat, for he spoke with smug satisfaction.

“Well, there you have it, Miss Everlight. My name is Weylin, just as the gentleman said.” Helena could hear the smirk in his voice. She sneered at him rather exaggeratedly to show him what she thought of that.

It was then that Helena noticed the dreadful silence that had now filled the stable. The visitor must have made his own assumption that he had interrupted something important, as he had stopped talking mid-sentence and had taken it upon himself to tend to his on horse. Perhaps he had decided that it was better to leave her and Weylin alone. On the contrary, important was, in Helena’s opinion, among the most unfitting words with which to describe this scene, and she wished most strongly that the stranger would continue to interrupt. Weylin must have also noticed that the visitor was helping himself, for he spoke up again.

"Well, I suppose this beauty can assume all of my attention then," he said. Helena promptly shot him the darkest look she could manage, trying very hard to make sure that the words “If there wasn’t an audience, I’d hit you so hard that by the time you came to, you’d be on your backside in Beruna!” were clearly conveyed in her glare.

Then, Helena turned her attention to the visitor. He had clearly been travelling, judging by the dusting of dirt upon his clothing, and by the bit of dried mud on his mount’s legs. However, despite the evidence of travel upon him, Helena noted that his clothes were most certainly not that of a commoner. They were evidently rich in quality and craftsmanship, with tasteful detailing in just the right places and rich colouring. Clearly this man was of some wealth or nobility. It was then that he spoke again, perhaps having rethought his silence.

“I've just arrived from Bernal. The wilderness is so bewitching this time of year. It is a pity that there are so few left in these parts to enjoy it." He gazed at Helena, apparently taking in her dreadful appearance. She simply followed his gaze with her own, a neutral expression gracing her features as he continued. “Though I see that some have.” He said. Helena would have rolled her eyes at him, though with enough subtlety that he would hopefully not have noticed, but the kind, sincere smile that appeared on his face caused her to rethink her response. She could see that it hadn’t been his intention to worsen the situation.
"Drinian, miss. At your service." He bowed his head as he spoke, and in response, assuming from his clothing that he was a man of nobility, Helena made a subtle curtsy as her mother had taught her to many years ago. She hoped that she had done it right, for truthfully, she had never before encountered an individual of high enough class to curtsy to.

Her cheeks suddenly flushed pink as she remembered her unruly appearance. She felt very out of place now that she was in the presence of a noble. At the same moment, Weylin appeared to have also realized the noble station of his patron. With a shocked look absolutely priceless in humour, so Helena thought, the stable-hand whirled around to face the young noble.

"My lord, I am terribly sorry," Weylin said in a rush. "My own mind tricked me into thinking that you wanted to tend your own horse, which was a silly proposition, being as I never asked you--" Helena tried to hold back her laughter as he cut himself off, noticing that he had been rambling. A snort of laughter escaped her throat, however, and she promptly silenced herself with her hand and looked away, grinning.
"Please, allow me to tend to your horse, Lord Drinian. What does she need?" Weylin exited the stable, glancing back at Helena just long enough for her to mockingly stick her tongue out at him. "I'll return in a moment and take care of your horse, miss." He said. The lord then spoke again, with enough volume so that he could be heard by both Helena and the stable-hand.

“Your intuition, Weylin, is quite keen. I did in fact want to tend to my own horse. Keeps me in practice. Placida and I travel together often, and she's used to my touch--you know how it is. However, I'll be needing to keep her here . . . indefinitely, and hope that you might offer Placida the necessary care when I am gone. I have two more things to ask of you; one is, I am afraid, very inconvenient; the other, not so very. First," Drinian hesitated, and Helena wondered if perhaps his requests were not as pleasant in nature as his previous smile indicated. "I realise that with the war, most lords will have taken the chargers and other suitable warhorses of the palace with them, but perhaps if there were some lingering destriers," said Drinian, looking troubled. He then gestured towards his own horse. "She simply will not do for a charge in battle."

The war was not something Helena often thought about. It was, of course, not the most pleasant of subjects, and while on her travels and in the process, living her dreams, she much preferred her heart to be light and free from worry or care. It was an ignorant bliss that Helena preferred to live in, and she would not have denied it had she been accused as such. But even so, she could not deny that her travels did place her in a certain amount of danger from the ongoing conflict, especially in the wilderness between towns or cities, hence the reason why her family was so hesitant in allowing her to go off adventuring on her own.
Helena recalled in that moment a conversation she’d once had with her twin brothers, Kieran and Dimitrio, about the conflict and their views on it (it was one of the few calm, quiet conversations they’d had, for most involved adrenaline and competition). All three of the siblings agreed that should Archenland ever be threatened, whether from this conflict or from any in the future, they would not hesitate for a moment to take up arms and defend it. But Helena knew full well that, just like any other person, even if she was successful in avoiding the conflict for a while, she could get sucked into it in the blink of an eye, when it was least expected. All she could do was to hope that it didn’t happen to her. That was all anyone could do.

"Another thing," said the young lord, not giving Weylin much time to reply to his previous request. "I am dividing up some of the things on my estate -- should any fighting be drawn there; it is rather close to the fighting -- and wondered if your brother, perhaps, might watch over some volumes of philosophy." Well, this was news to Helena. The stable-hand had a brother. She shuddered as she thought of having to deal with that scoundrel of a stable-hand on a daily basis. If she was sibling to Weylin, she was certain she would have jumped off a cliff years ago. Drinian held up a worn-looking volume. "There are seven in all. They were my father's. I couldn't sell them and likely they would not be objects of plunder, but I am rather fond of them. I often observed Gavin reading during his leisure time and thought that his great care of books coupled with my need for a caretaker and aligned with the fact that books of learning are rather more difficult to come by, of late . . . " Again, the noble looked quite grim.

By this point, as was her nature, Helena’s attention began to idly turn to various items in the stable. She took note of the hooks on the walls at the opposite end of the stable, over which various articles of equine tack and grooming items were draped and hung. The rafters were choked by a plethora of cobwebs, and in one corner she spotted an abandoned sparrow’s nest. Her gaze then turned to one of the empty stalls. Turning to her own equine companion, she gave him a gentle pat on the nose to get his attention (He had been dozing for a while), and then led him into the stall she’d set her eye on. Once her horse was tied in the stall, Helena found a barrel just outside of it, which upon further inspection was found to contain water. She figured she might as well attempt to remove some of the trail filth that covered her. Helena observed the sleeve which she hadn’t torn a piece from back on the trail. It was muddy, but not as much so as the rest of her clothing. So, she ripped a large section from that sleeve and submerged it in the water before her, scrubbing the dirt from the fabric. As she did so, she began listening in to the conversation between Drinian and Weylin, which was now taking place just outside the open stable doors.

"I keep you from your duty with too many requests. I apologise most sincerely," said Drinian, motioning back inside the stable. "If you could show me some horses that you might have on hand, I can fetch the remaining volumes." He looked at Weylin once again. "I am very grateful to you." He said.

With most of the dirt removed from her piece of fabric, she brought the wet rag to her face, and using the water as a makeshift mirror, started to scrub away some of the dirt that the trail had left behind.

[weylin]

The young lord was apparently in the mood to talk. Customarily, Weylin was on the opposite end of things. Usually it was Weylin who was talking to no end, driving the people around him -- especially his dear brother -- mad with all the ramblings. But to a lord Weylin dared not interrupt. To some he might, but this man seemed to be different than most, and Weylin, surprisingly enough, felt a sort of pity for him. The young man was unlikely to want any such pity, but he looked as though he deserved it. He couldn't be older than Weylin himself, undoubtedly younger (which pained the poor Owen twin greatly, but thankfully, because of the younger gentleman's character, he managed to bear it without much disrespect).

"I realise that with the war, most lords will have taken the chargers and other suitable warhorses of the palace with them, but perhaps if there were some lingering destriers... She simply will not do for a charge in battle."

Weylin looked towards the gentle horse. She definitely would not do in a heated battle, it was quite true. The stablehand's mind immediately filtered through all the horses in the stable as he began charting out what was available in his mind. He believed there were a few destriers left, but if he was not mistaken there was one or two coursers left, which would be more suited for battle than the destriers. He was about to voice his opinions, and lead the gentleman to his horse, but that man began his stream of talking once more, and Weylin was once more forced into listening. This time was a happier matter though, or so it seemed by the smile on his face, and Weylin was urging himself to be kind enough to the seemingly nice young man that was speaking.

"I am dividing up some of the things on my estate -- should any fighting be drawn there; it is rather close to the fighting -- and wondered if your brother, perhaps, might watch over some volumes of philosophy. There are seven in all. They were my father's. I couldn't sell them and likely they would not be objects of plunder, but I am rather fond of them. I often observed Gavin reading during his leisure time and thought that his great care of books coupled with my need for a caretaker and aligned with the fact that books of learning are rather more difficult to come by, of late . . . "

Weylin's eyebrows arched upwards. Gavin would be delighted. Thrilled, even. And though Lord Drinian obviously didn't know the general character of Weylin in giving these precious books to him, he promised himself to get them safely to his brother. Drinian was proving himself to be a good sort of person, and Weylin was content to believe him for now. Should the tides sway out of his favor, Weylin wouldn't hesitate to sway with them, for he did not claim any great knowledge to Lord Drinian's real character. But from what he could see, Weylin was impressed. If a man of rank cared about his brother, Weylin was going to give him a chance to prove himself.

"I thought these may be of some interest to him. If he would be willing. I should like him to read them. He can tell anyone who asked that I requested it of him."

Weylin joined the grinning here, he couldn't help himself. It was refreshing to meet someone such as Lord Drinian who had such a different outlook on things from so many of the lords Weylin worked for every day. And it was rather delightful, the contradiction that was propelling from it all. So, Drinian was a bit of a rebel, beneath it all. Weylin thought it was all quite amusing, and he was beginning to like Drinian more and more.

 "I cannot thank you enough, sir." Weylin said with genuine gratitude, finally given an opening to speak. "My brother will be quite grateful to you, I'm sure. He is very fond of reading, just as you've said. That was something I could never quite understand," Weylin laughed, not being able to imagine wanting to sit down with seven large volumes and find it a joy. It would be more like a cruelty for him. But he knew his brother would be pleased, and so he was genuinely grateful.

"As to the horses, it is no problem at all. That, after all, is my job." Weylin flashed his noteworthy grin, as he was almost infamous for doing, and motioned for Drinian to follow him. As he led the way farther into the stables, Weylin continued talking. "We do have some destriers left, but I believe you might be so fortunate as to find a courser among our horses. King Miraz has always demanded a large supply, should it ever be needed. It seems he knew what he was doing." Weylin said the last sentence with grim awareness, not enjoying the reality of either truth that was just mentioned. Though he didn't care too much about the war, wars were never pretty. And Weylin had never liked Miraz, he was too haughty and far up in rank for Weylin to ever appreciate him, let alone respect him. And to admit to Miraz's brilliancy was not a happy thought.

"Ah! Here he is. A beauty, isn't he?" Weylin opened the stall, and the stepped inside, allowing Drinian to follow him. "His name's Glover." Weylin stroked the dark mane that hung onto its sparkling brown body. "He had a slight injury, which is why he hasn't been called out to battle. He's back in good health now though, should do mighty well on the battle field. I didn't know if he'd been taken out or not, these horses are leaving by the day anymore. I'd count this my lucky day if I were you."

{sorry there's no helena action here, marlee. i'll get to her next post. ^^}

[Lord Drinian]

 "I cannot thank you enough, sir," the young man had said and Drinian smiled in response before he continued. "My brother will be quite grateful to you, I'm sure. He is very fond of reading, just as you've said. That was something I could never quite understand," though Drinian chuckled softly with Weylin, he said, "Books are necessary to me, though I might choose my time spent in other ways. What learning I have taken the time for has served me well. I am glad your brother has chosen such a life; it will serve him well." He looked up to the skies. "If I had more advisors like him, I would have more time to enjoy the out-of-doors. But I shall get my fill of it, soon." Drinian was quiet a moment as he thought.

Perhaps he ought not to have spoken so openly. As ruler of the second largest duchy in Telmar (second only to the adjacent Beruna on the other side of the river), Drinian had a military force at hand and overseers of commerce, advisors of politics -- all of which had come from Bernal itself. To Drinian, this seemed only the most logical, for no one living outside Bernal could have the same passion and care for its welfare as those living *in* it, directly affected by the decisions they made. However, this had caused some resentment in the Telmarine court, for as Drinian was the only aristocratic member in Bernal, the other ruling members had been common (from good, prosperous families, but of no title or family in those lines)-- thus muddling Bernal's status as aristocracy, causing shame, and worse still, robbing members of court from prominent auxilary positions.

Drinian had seen what court had to offer and had many friends, but few he could command, and fewer still he  would.

Drinian followed Weylin back into the stables, nodding as he passed the horses, and giving a grim smile to the stable lad's acute observations. "King Miraz has always demanded a large supply, should it ever be needed. It seems he knew what he was doing."

"Yes," he said absently as he looked from horse to horse a bit anxiously.

His face grew no less easy, but more attentive and keen upon being introduced to Glover as though eyeing a new member of court: to discern his temperament, potential strengths, nature, and whether he was friend or foe. "And whose horse was he before?" Drinian could not help but ask skeptically. He never liked rider-less horses: they had, likely, lead their owner to one death or another before him. . .

He would decide in a moment if it was a lucky day but to Drinian, it seemed luck had run out. In a gentle manner, lest he offend, he asked, "Perhaps I could take Glover out a moment while you see to Miss -- " At this, he added, "Forgive me, miss. I did not inquire as to your name."

[weylin]

Weylin personally did not care how openly Drinian spoke. With little interest in such affairs, the stablehand would have done nothing with much more information... Unless there was some great scheme involved, possibly along with a hated rival. But that was another matter, and Weylin wasn't expecting any such thing to happen at any time in the near future. Instead Lord Drinian's openness (though Weylin wouldn't particularly call it openness, rather more open than most) was actually a refreshing sight for Weylin. A lord who seemed to care more about others than himself wasn't something Weylin Owen was accustomed to seeing.

Weylin could see Drinian eye the horse suspiciously. Weylin of course knew what was likely filtering through Drinian's head as he asked, "And whose horse was he before?" Few horseman liked a riderless horse, Drinian was bound to think the same. "A member of the army, I can't recall his name. Apparently he had a very..." Weylin paused, searching for the right word. "Uh, untimely death. If you're worried that this horse caused it, you needn't be. The soldier wasn't even with the horse at the time... I don't know all the details, people don't like to talk about it much." Weylin stepped around the horse, checking the leg which had been slightly twisted as he spoke, as habitual a movement as though he were wiping sweat from his brow. "Some blamed the Narnians. Others whispered it was governmental." He shrugged, letting Glover's foot go and standing up again, pleased with the healed leg.

Death was a matter of grave seriousness, and Weylin hated grave seriousness, so he preferred to avoid it as much as possible. When Lord Drinian brought up the pretty muddied lady a few stalls away Weylin grinned. "Ah, but I should have introduced you! Forgive me, my lord. This is Helena Everlight, Miss Everlight, Lord Drinian." Weylin winked at Helena, knowing he'd just gained the upper hand again. She had been making his day so terribly fun!

"Well, I will warn you, he can be a bit edgy at first, though I'm sure he'll warm up to you fine with a little time." Weylin quickly advised Drinian, as soon as they had turned back to the horse. It took him but a moment to ready a saddle, reigns, and bit, as he continued to introduce Drinian to the horse's character. "This one's got a bit of a temper but he's easy to reign in once you earn his trust. He'll calm down quickly, I assure you." Sure that Drinian wouldn't like this to much, Weylin was quick to assure, "There are other horses but none of such good quality. Glover's the only one of his kind left in the stables and he's your best option for a fine battle horse. I highly recommend him."

Weylin finished preparing the horse and handed Drinian the reigns. "There's grazing pastures just back there, if you wish." He pointed to the direction of a giant door which stood open, leading towards a giant green field where a few horses roamed about.

Turning back to face the young lady who was left standing there, Weylin's grin replaced itself. He couldn't help but notice the lack of mud that had once been gracing her delicate face."I see you've cleaned up, Miss Everlight." He was quite amused with the whole ordeal, and thought it rather funny that she still appeared to be smoldering with anger towards him. Perhaps it was unwise humor, but it was all jolly fun for Weylin. "Might I see to your horse again, or have you already robbed me of my duty? That would be a shame, miss. I do so hate being idle."

[Lord Drinian]

Lord Drinian nodded grimly to Weylin's account of the horse's history, making no comment but to turn brightly to Helena and once more bowing his head to her. "Again a pleasure, Miss Everlight."
The foreign sound of the name, the fair complexion -- Drinian placed her somewhere around Archenland. He smiled graciously as he realised he had now to welcome a visitor, a merry obligation he took up as a noble of the palace.


"I hope you have been enjoying more than the wilderness of Telmar since you have arrived? I am sorry there are not more people in the capital. It is usually a very vibrant city. You catch us at an unfortunate time, but I hope your stay will be long enough to see their return."

His attention could not linger long upon Miss Everlight, for Weylin pursued his discussion of the charger. The painting of Glover's character was troublesome and while Drinian had never been a firm believer in physiognomy, a look at the broad face, long nose, and thick hind quarters of the horse, he could not help but draw a character of the steed as well.

Troublesome, indeed.

But, with a good countenance and confident composure, Drinian saddled the horse and led him out to pasture, glancing back at the young pair with a fleeting smile before he swung himself up into the saddle.

Drinian had not got far before he heard his name called. Turning in the saddle, a motion which caused Glover to wheel about stubbornly, Drinian caught a glimpse of a man climbing through the fence with an eye to meet him.

Having finally regained control of Glover, Drinian allowed the man--who he now recognised as one of his councilors, Domitian--to come to him rather than risk the embarrassment of a display before one of his men. "Domitian," he called back, "I am surprised to see you here, having left you four days in Bernal." His frown deepened as he saw the man's strained face, either from the extertion of the walk or some ill news, Drinian had yet to find out.

The man nodded his grey head. "Yes. Forgive me, my lord, for having left Bernal to Tobias. But the message I bore required all speed. I hope you are confident in Tobias' ability to lead in my stead." The man paused, eyes widening a moment. "In your stead." Drinian waved his hand in an air of acceptance and approval of the man's judgment, pressing the man to continue.

"Yet I was surprised when I arrived here to find that you had not arrived and I had outstripp'd you by one day. . ."

Drinian coloured as he recognised the accents of concern and worry in the Lord's voice. His ramblings about the countryside, while an enjoyable (and necessary) escape for the Duke of Bernal, had led to the increased anxiety in one of his retainers. When he considered how he had spent the days with so grave a task at hand as he now faced, the colour deepened further.

"I trust," Domitian added, brows knit, "that no trouble befell your grace?"

"No; not at all. I passed the days quite well. But pray speak, Domitian, of your message. My mother--" Drinian's voice bespoke a panic.

"Ah, my lord, the Lady Amirna is in excellent health but lacks your grace terribly. Why, just before I left, she said to me--"

"Then please, Domitian, tell me the matter of your message."

Domitian wet his lips and glanced back at the stables, hearing the voices of those within, then looking back to Drinian.

"King Miraz's men--and the Prince's--, my lord, have moved in upon the border of your land."

Drinian paled, unable to speak for several moments.

"You are certain? But did not the men I ordered to remain behind prevent their progress?"

"They have not yet crossed the River Rush, my liege--where your men still await. It was no small portion of the army as have camped, my lord. They have completed the bridge from Beruna. The whole of the army has crossed, having discovered Caspian's forces reside at the How."

Drinian looked up to the sky in disbelief, dispelling the air from his chest in a slow sigh. "I am glad you told me of this. It is of some comfort that they are yet in the uninhabited areas and that I shall shortly be there; the enemy cannot make a move without my knowing it. Have Tobias reform the men we have and arm every able bodied young man to defend the outlying cities . . ." he paused significantly. ". . . against the Narnians." The looks of Domitian made clear that he understood who Drinian had truly meant.

"My lord, we have already begun doing so."

"Thank the gods I have you, Domitian," Drinian said with a fond smile and was about to return to the stables when he sensed Domitian had yet one more thing to say.

"My lord, if Prince Caspian has decided to hide himself on your land, it may account for the suspicion Miraz has laid upon you."

"That is more than likely true, but I do not believe I would have been free of't in any case," the Lord of Bernal said with no little resignation.

To this, Domitian seemed to have no response but frowned compassionately on his lord and, giving his obeisance, left Drinian alone in the pasture.

[Helena Everlight]

"Ah, but I should have introduced you! Forgive me, my lord. This is Helena Everlight, Miss Everlight, Lord Drinian." Weylin said with a wink. Helena stuck her tongue out at him before turning to the lord.

"Again a pleasure, Miss Everlight." He said. Helena smiled in response.
“No milord, the pleasure is all mine.” She replied. Having met a lord of Telmar was certainly one of the more interesting events which she could add to her growing collection of stories from her travels. Though she was having the time of her life on this journey to no-where-in-particular, she still longed to gaze upon the green pastures and rocky hills of Archenland once more, and to be with her family again. She already had so much to tell them, and was a bit worried that she wouldn’t be able to remember everything once she returned.

"I hope you have been enjoying more than the wilderness of Telmar since you have arrived? I am sorry there are not more people in the capital. It is usually a very vibrant city. You catch us at an unfortunate time, but I hope your stay will be long enough to see their return." Said the lord. Helena chuckled at his allusion to her soiled appearance, but nodded.
“Indeed, if it weren’t for the mud, I’m sure I would find Telmar full of unique and wonderful wildernesses. I do fear that such unwelcoming conditions have tarnished my opinion on them, however. I shall have to return in the future when the rains have passed, I’m sure that will change my mind. And as for people, I hardly mind the lack thereof. I’m not used to particularly large crowds, for I tend to avoid the afternoon rush at the market in my hometown.” Helena smiled, and peered out at what she could see of the castle from her current position.

“I must add, however, that the architecture of this city is magnificent; very…oh, how to put it…noble, proud, and…hmm…passionate.” Helena nodded contemplatively, here eyes lingering on the grand towers before returning to Drinian’s face just as Weylin spoke up about the horse he and Drinian had been discussing.

The two continued with their business as Helena turned to her own horse, noting that it might be a while before Weylin could resume tending to it. She gave the steed a quick pat, and took another little trip through the stable, picking up some brushes and a bucket of feed on the way. Thankful that the stall she had chosen was quite roomy, she placed the bucket on the floor where her horse had easy access.  The horse quietly voiced his approval as he dug into his snack. Helena smiled and began giving him a quick brush, ridding his coat of what dust she could for the time being. She was just about to unwrap the bandaged leg to take another look when she heard a voice behind her. Startled, she whirled around with a gasp, only to come face to face with Weylin again, leaning against the entrance of the stall.

"I see you've cleaned up, Miss Everlight." Said Weylin.
“Quite an ill-fated attempt…wouldn’t you agree?” the girl said, rolling her eyes. “It is difficult to clean up when one lacks a mirror or half-decent lighting.” Helena picked at the dried mud on her sleeves, oh how she wished for a change of clothing. She sighed, however, as she recalled just how much of the public area of town she would have to walk through to return to the home of the family friends she was staying with. Gazing out of the stables at the grand spires ascending out of the castle that was nobly perched on the horizon, she longed idly for a long rest in one of the luxurious baths that most certainly could be found in such royal quarters. A fine Telmarine gown would also have been a lovely souvenir to take with her as well, though the idea was more humour than actual consideration. Helena knew full well that to ever get within twenty yards of that Telmarine castle’s walls (or those of any building of monarchial association, for that matter) was surely beyond her reach of luck or fate.
She was pried out of her thoughts as the stable-hand spoke again.
"Might I see to your horse again, or have you already robbed me of my duty? That would be a shame, miss. I do so hate being idle." He said. She smirked at him.

“Fear not, I haven’t robbed you of your duties, mister Weylin. I’ve only brushed him.” She stepped aside from the stall in which she’d put her steed. “Taking the time to be a complete and utter scoundrel would hardly be considered a means of being idle, of course.” She said sarcastically, with a smirk. “If it would not leave you too terribly rushed, I would like to be getting back on the road shortly. There’s much to see and do and so little time to work with.” Already, the afternoon was coming to a close, and the sun was not quite as high in the sky as it had been earlier.

[Lord Drinian]

OOC: Sorry to have Drin burst in again, lol, but I wanted to get him going from Telmar and to the camp. (Were we still wanting to have him at the awkward tea-party thing? I'm leaving that option, but also allowing Helena a way in to that scene if she'd like. )

IC:

When Drinian returned, he was remarkably quiet and out of countenance and, seeming to realise it, redoubled his efforts to smile as he dismounted, saw Glover back into his stall, and hurriedly distanced himself from the horse as though it had been the cause of all his ill-fortune.

Anxious lest he should once more burst in upon the couple, but unable to ignore the sweeping feeling of urgency and disquiet, Drinian undercut any inbred civility he had previously bowed to. What he wanted most was to get his duties laid aside and to retreat into solitude and conversation with Professor Cornelius. He pulled off one glove at a time and addressed the couple.

"Weylin, you are quite right; the horse is a fine one and it will more than do for my purposes. You've my deepest thanks in securing it. I regret," he input quietly, "that I must leave this evening, if possible. With all haste. This will not," he said, cautiously looking to Weylin, "allow for much time for preparation or," he said, looking to Helena, "allow me the chance to see that you are comfortably set up here during your stay. Mister Owen will, no doubt, have useful suggestions on how you may occupy your time, but if you wish, I may introduce you to some of the ladies of the court who happen to be meeting at tea in an hour's time." Still delivered with his traditional smile, Drinian's words were not delivered with the same leisure as before. To most, he would seem to be in a hurry. To those who knew him well, it appeared as though his world had just caved in.

[weylin]

"Actually, I would perceive it to be a very skilled attempt for having neither a mirror, nor decent lighting," Weylin responded with a smile. "I apologize for both, certainly. A stable isn't a usual place to find either thing, but we do like to accommodate, when we can."

In reference to the horse's needs, Weylin spoke immediately. "Ah, delightful! I will get right to him, then." True to his word, Weylin disappeared for a moment, returning with a little hand held box-like kit at his side. Taking his place beside the horse, he began speaking again, as he worked. "Being a 'complete and utter scoundrel', as you say, is certainly not being idle, miss. Do you not have a brother? Or, perhaps if you do, he is a studious perfect sort of soul like my brother." The young lady mentioned her need to leave and Weylin brushed it off. "Ah, no need to worry, it will only take a moment. It's nothing serious, but will need a bandage for a few days, perhaps a week."

So saying, he had begun washing the wound, and swathing on a special cream when Lord Drinian re-entered, looking much more serious than before.  "No need to worry, my lord. Glover will respond fine, I'm sure. If you have troubles with him you may send for me." Weylin found that thought rather exciting. How thrilling to be on the battlefield! Yet it was hardly a necessity, or an expectation. "As for your Placida, we'll keep her safe here. Should you have any last minute instructions for her, you may leave a message with the castle servants. They will relay them to me."

Weylin took up his swathing of the horse's leg again, listening as Lord Drinian proposed to introduce Helena to a few of the 'tea' ladies. His eyebrows rose. They were the elite of society, Helena would be a fool not to accept, as far as society's mind determined.